


An Exercise in Air Quotes

by Liah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Gen, M/M, Magical Realism, Minor Character Death, dealing with grief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28114779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liah/pseuds/Liah
Summary: The very moment a person dies, the memory of them is gone.There is no way how to avoid that, how to stop it. You just forget with their very last breath. Some call it a Darwinism in its purest form, some see the worst punishment from heavens in that. It does not really matter.Castiel is emotionally detached psychology student. Dean is a journalism mayor with anger issues. They fall for each other and they fall hard.But in the world which makes it so easy to forget... is love even worth it?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel´s part time job was working for a university suicide line. 

It was much less cool and much less serious than it sounded like, as Castiel found out shortly after his first shift. He did not mind, though.

His duty consisted of spending his time at university radio station room from seven to midnight, every Wednesday, Friday and Saturday (statistically a probability of suicide was higher those days then a rest of a week. Nana scoffed at that when Castiel told her - why somebody would kill themselves just before weekend? Just enjoy yourself and leave the messy business for later. Then forget about it all, ideally. Castiel tend to agree with Nana at that one). Nana did not like how many hours he pulled. Castiel did not mind, since everybody was cool with him doing his homework during his shift as long as he picked the line.  
Castiel had no special training for this, but his psychology degree and calm nature (evidently young dispatchers tend to freak out the very moment somebody would tell them about their planned suicide) seemed to be good enough for them. Castiel would use some extra money - as every student. He wanted to help to Nana as much as he could. 

_Before_ , nobody would let him do this without license anyway. But _after_ , to his disapproval, people barely cared about mental health regulations anymore with everybody´s hands full with people with depression and suicidial tendencies even though Castiel´s generation could not even remember _before_ anymore. Castiel could not blame them, not really.  
He did his best and he would receive some extra credit for this on top of some decent money. Also he barely slept anyway so he did not mind late hours - it was just ideal part-time for him. 

The room had seen its better days, in his humble opinion, but Nana told him that he was just too picky. He did not bother with lights - monitor of his laptop was good enough. 

His homework. Usually, he was fond of writing essays - not this one, though. 

"Do you have any other comments, Nana?" He needed at least one more page.  
Castiel loved Skype. He was not very fond of technologies, but he clearly saw the perks. 

"My boy, who would even read so many pages?" Nana muttered. It should sound like a negative comment, but nothing sounded truly bad in that gruffy voice of hers. She adopted Castiel many many years back - when she still worked like a police officer, only female at that position in their town for last thirty years - and she always meant well for Castiel, although she could be very frisky, as officers just tend to be.  
Also, Nana was Japanese and he was not. She insisted on being called nana instead of grandma or mama and he had to attend some basic Japanese as a kid (he did not mind). They still got some funny looks sometimes at public. That he did not mind either. 

"Did you put down an introduction about how The memory fall started?"  
"I wrote numeric data, starting thirty years ago. Also, some theories about evolutionary defense mechanism, then biblical explanation."  
"What about mental consequences?"  
"I´m not sure I want to write about how many people lost their sanity due to the shock of loosing memories, Nana."

He knew the woman wanted to confront him about that. He adored her for the fact that she did not.

"Write about change in burial traditions after The memory fall. That should not be too morbid even for you."  
"I will."

It was crazy to think that Nana witnessed so many cultural changes, even the day everybody just lost their memories of passed ones, The memory fall, and got through, still functioning. Castiel felt almost bad about asking her to share her views on that, bringing up bad ..... something, but she was a great help with his essay and she scoffed when he explained his hesitation about asking for her help.  
That idea alone - that you could remember everything - sounded almost crazy to him. How Nana could deal with so much pain? So many memories? He got a great respect for her for that alone. 

"I already put down something about preference of cremation versus burial, abandonment of cemeteries-"

The telephone rang.

"Have to go, Nana."  
She nodded solemnly - she rarely smiled but she was rarely this serious, "do your best, Castiel."

"Oh, you´re awake, you zombie, thank´s fuck. I had a day from Hell, you wouldn´t believe what happened..." It was a masculine voice. A rather deep one. It was evident, that the person at the other side of line was tired, like _dead tired._  
The person did not let Castiel to introduce himself or to speak at all. He did not mind, although usually they let to get at least to _hello, I´m Castiel and you´re not alone._

"There was some fatty guy ordering two hot dogs today. He looked shaggy and stinky, but whatever, as long as he paid. So I prepared the hot dogs, he gave my cash and then he went to the car parked next to our fast food hole. He gave one to some chick sitting in the car, they ate. Normal, yeah?" Castiel hummed in agreement. 

"Then the bastard started to put on some sun visors at his windscreen. I was not paying too much attention, honestly, too many starving costumers at lunch hour. But then the bastard started to put blankets over his windows and that was a bit too much to miss. Would you believe that, Sammy?" the voice was clearly frustrated even though Castiel did not understand why exactly. He was not sure how to ask about that, so he just hummed again. 

"Sammy, are you sick or your toddler finally gobbled up your sanity with that lack of sleep?"  
"Can kids to that?" asked Castiel, relieved for a topic bit more clear for him.  
"You´re not Sammy."  
"No, I´m afraid. You called the local suicide line and common sense is to let the victim talk things out if possible-"  
" _The victim? The suicide line_? For a sake of sacred cats," the voice cursed.  
"What does that even _mean_?" Castiel asked, exasperated, "are you all right?"  
"It means that I called the wrong number, pizza boy," then a bit more hesitantly, he added, "and I´m... sorry. You do some serious business out there."  
"You´d be surprised how many joke calls I get during one week." Castiel was taking his task seriously. Many youngsters did not. It was nice to hear a person who cared about his job too, in a way. 

"So, sorry again, and have a nice night, or-"  
"Can you tell me the rest?" Castiel blurted out.  
"Are you serious?"  
"As a heart attack. I don´t want to write my own essay anymore."  
"Man, a bit of morbid with your occupation, but fine with me. But don´t interrupt me or I will hang up, yeah?"  
Castiel ignored that part, too curious to care, "so what happened?" 

"Well, I was doing my job, the weirdo forgotten. And then the car started to swing, over and over again, in the middle of the day, at a fucking _public place._ "

Castiel did not understand.

"I could not believe my poor eyes, so I called my colleague, clumsy kid with big brain, maybe he got some alternative explanation than those two fucking each other. I did not work in some posh part of the city, but that was kinda too much even for our shithole." Castiel tended to agree - those things were supposed to happen in some bars and brothers, preferably only in some movies.  
"So what did you do?" Castiel hold his breath, remembering the condition, but it seemed that the other person did not care. Castiel also wrote a quick message to Nana, telling her to not wait up for him.

"I called my old man. He is a cop and he came, full parade and everything, but they were already finished. The guy had even the nerve to tell my father in his face that I am a liar."  
"Oh."  
"Yeah, oh. It was his statement against mine. My colleague did not want to get involved, skittish kid. And you know what was the the fucking gold of that shitfest?"  
"I´m not even sure I want to know."  
"The girl was barely sixteen, clearly homeless. Seriously, nobody would probably even bother to bury her if she died." That was more common than a one would think - without emotional attachment people felt to obligation to bury their dead or to pay someone for doing that. There were laws for that of course, but those were broken too often for Castiel taste´s.  
"Oh my goodness..."

"She stated that there was not prostitution happening and that she did not give him blowjob or hand job or whatever, since it was really a quickie. My old man knows I was right and he offered to take her to the station to help her solve everything, but she refused. She was eighteen, as it turned out, so father could not push her."  
"That´s...."  
"Sick. Yeah, I know, pizza guy. So there´s your sick story. See you in a next life or-"  
"Please, wait!" Castiel surprised even himself with clear interest in his voice.

"Don´t yell at me, dammit."  
"I apologize. Can I hear you any other time?"  
"I swear, if you are second pervert I´ve met today-"  
"No. Nothing like that. And besides, you called me, no other way around."

There was a long silence, full of hesitancy, so Castiel decided to explain.

"Look, you cared about a stranger. You were angry on her behalf. I wouldn´t."  
"I´m angry practically all the time, to be honest."  
"And I´m too broke to be a pervert. At this point, I probably could not afford two hot dogs." He had been told by many that his humor was just out of line - he really hoped that this was not a case.  
The voice snorted. 

"We can talk again."  
"Excellent. I´ll text you my personal number since this is a public line. My name´s Castiel, what´s yours?"

A snort, "not so quick, Cas. Later." 

Castiel could not even muster an irritation for that rather rude and abrupt finish line.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel waited for the call.  
The call never came. 

He tried to not feel crushed by the fact - he should expect that. Really, the stranger owned him absolutely nothing and people usually thought twice before letting someone in their lives - you should choose carefully with whom would you spend your time with, who would you create memories with and eventually hurt them or by them by taking that memories away with eventual death and memory loss. One remarkable spontaneous conversation would be enough to create a spark, an interest in good old days, but not in their world. Castiel understood.  
And still... the man, the call was an ice cube somebody put behind your collar during a hot day - shocking, little painful, but still refreshing, The stranger had stories to tell. He was snarky and bit rude, but with a heart at a right place, as far as his anger on behalf of that homeless girl could tell. He was unafraid to live, unapologetic to make some noise   
He did not pity Castiel. 

So he carried on. He submitted his essay and studied - he was an excellent student although more out of necessity than anything else. He needed his stipendium.  
Three mornings in a row, Nana told a same story to him while eating breakfast. Stories of her youth, leaving aftertaste of nostalgy spited on their toasts instead of butter. Castiel laughed and hummed at the right places, knowing the stories by heart, kissing her on cheek before leaving the house. 

There was an impressive flower garden in an areal of his university with tree nursery nearby. Those trees were usually taken to be planted all around the town, making it a bit more welcoming. He volunteered to help with the nursery - it was calming, a rather good hobby. Nana rarely let him to help her with their tiny herb garden in front of their porch.  
That day, he only needed to water the trees and move some things around. Many people never heard soil drinking its water, letting fill crack after crack. Castiel listened to the sound it carefully, kneeling in front of the greenery.  
His phone rang. 

"Hello, I´m Dean Winchester. We don´t know each other, but if I can speak for a minute with you, I´d appreciate it. I´m a journalism mayor and-" the voice spoke rapidly, almost in panic.  
"Is that... you?" Castiel asked. He _knew_ that voice.  
"Oh, shit. _You?_ " then a few more profanities followed. Castiel just waited them out, blinking against the harsh Sun.  
"This isn´t the number I´ve gave you," Castiel noted.  
"Look- I know. I study journalism, I just took it from your file and haven´t realized that you´re my radio guy."  
"You stole the information from my file?"  
Exasperated sigh answered, "I know it sounds bad, but I can explain. Can we meet? It´s not something to tell through phone, man." 

Castiel stayed silent. Sometimes silence speak louder than your voice. 

"Castiel, _please_. It´s important. I´ll tell you everything and then leave you alone if you want me to."  
He really should not agreed. The whole thing seemed frantic at best and sketchy at worst. But when was the last time someone needed him, sounding so desperate, with exception of Nana? Castiel was a loner, a willing one, but he craved company without any emotional strings attached. This fit his requirements perfectly. "Meet me in front of university in twenty minutes."  
Another round of profanities followed - Castiel´s lips quirked up. A strange way how to express relief, indeed.

*** *** ***   
First thing Castiel noticed about Dean was the strength.

It was not about his figure or his muscles; that strength showed in the sureness of his step; in his bolt gestures. He was moving with purpose and self-sureness in the same manner he led their first accidental call, making all the rules. Castiel did not even need to ask if the figure of young man walking towards him was Dean - there was no way it was not him.   
Then he noticed swanky boots. For some reason, it made Castiel smile.   
"Castiel," Dean said.  
"Dean," he greeted back, his voice similarly serious. The other man was so intense - Castiel felt a rare strike of mischief, aching to crack that façade. To make him pay for broken promise - he never called back.

"I'm a volunteer here. Help me with the plants while you tell me what do you need me for."   
To give the guy some credit, he just looked at him from head to toes, probably trying to find out how serious Castiel was. Then just shrugged, not minding to put some mud at that swanky shoes of his.   
They spend rather pleasant hour or two under the harsh Sun. 

*** *** ***   
There was a strange club at their university. 

It was not officially registered, but even social loner like Castiel was familiar enough with the club. No member if the club ever spoke what was happening during the sessions of the club. Only thing which slipped out was that the club was searching for ways to get around the memory loss after the death of beloved. Nothing new - there were many cults dedicated to the same thing. But apparently, this one already made some real progress with that. 

"They´ll not let in just anybody just because they want to. They´re the ones doing approaching and they gonna contact you soon," Dean explained, putting some plants where Castiel told him to.   
Castiel did not believe it. Not even a bit - he was too... mundane for such a thing happening to him. Barely anybody knew he existed so why would they bother?  
"How would you know?"  
"A journalist, remember?" he tapped a side of his nose in gesture whose implication Castiel was not familiar with, "I have my ways. I want to write an article about those fuckers daring to lie about this." And Castiel saw an ire in a set of Dean´s jaw.   
But he also looked at him with prominent attention; a sole focus, like he was an only person that mattered. It was oddly intoxicating.

Also, Castiel was curious. Nana told him many times that it was not a good quality to have.   
He took a deep breath. There was not much to lose, right?  
"Let me sleep on this. I´ll let you know."

*** *** ***  
It was almost 2am. Castiel could not stop stare at his own message he just had send to Dean. 

_Show me something you really care about. Then I am in._

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I have certainly fell hard for Destiel. Any thoughts?


End file.
